Sea Turtles
by mamazano
Summary: Gibbs agrees to escort Scarlett & Giselle on a simple "shopping" excursion. Little did he know, they'd be getting more than they bargained for. A non-sexual adventure of Gibbs,Scarlett,and Giselle after they wander away from the dock at the end of AWE
1. Chapter 1

Sea Turtles

Joshamee Gibbs was bored. It had now been three months since he bid farewell to Jack Sparrow on the docks of Tortuga, six months since the battle against the Company Armada, and the terrible Maelstrom, and almost a year since the journey to the world beyond, to fetch Jack from the Locker.

Gibbs glanced around the crowded tavern and sighed. At first, his time spent on shore had passed in a blissful, rum-soaked haze: no worries, no fears, no danger (well, outside of the occasional belligerent drunk at the _Faithful Bride_). In short, a virtual paradise. But now, after having spent the better part of his most recent years battling undead pirates and eldritch creatures, Gibbs found even the tumultuous life in Tortuga exceedingly dull.

A voice at his elbow interrupted his thoughts.

"What's the matter, Josh?" Giselle, pretty as ever, slid onto the bench next to him and patted his knee. "You look like yer best friend just ran off with yer girl."

Gibbs smiled at the winsome wench, and shook his grizzled head. "Jack never did fancy the same curve t' the hull as I." He smiled at Giselle. "He preferred his t' be sleek and trim."

"I miss him." Giselle sighed. "Figure Jack ever got his ship back?"

Gibbs shook his head. "No tellin' what's become of Jack. Could be just about anywhere 'bout now." He took a long drink and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "No use frettin' over him. Knowing Jack, he'll show up when yer least 'pectin' him."

"Ain't that the truth!" Giselle smiled, lost in thought for a moment. "Remember that time he saved that woman fell off the docks?"

"Full Sail Sally!" Gibbs chuckled. "She 'bout near drowned ol' Jack." He smiled ruefully and added, "Never did let me forget it, either."

The two friends shared a laugh, before Giselle rose to go. "Well, I best be getting' back to work, Josh." She bent down and gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek. "We'll look for you this Sunday, if yer still interested in going."

Gibbs patted her on the hand. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."

--

The following Sunday found Gibbs on the road heading towards the waterfront, dawn's rosy hues painting the slumbering streets of Tortuga, still abed after the bacchanalian celebrations of the night before. Not accustomed to rising with the sun, Gibbs yawned widely as he picked his way through the muddy street, stepping over the occasional drunk sleeping off the night's libations.

The reason for his early rising was waiting on the quay: the two women whom he'd developed an unusual sort of kinship with during the past months. Part adviser, part protector, purely platonic, the three of them had bonded over a common bond: Jack Sparrow. The women waited for Gibbs now, toes tapping in impatience, eager to embark on their little adventure.

"You came!" Giselle declared, then turned to her companion. "Didn't I tell you, Letty? He's a man of his word."

Scarlett smiled. "Unlike someone else we know."

"Now don't be bad mouthing Jack again, Letty," Giselle sighed. "He'll make it up to you, next time he's in port. You wait and see."

Scarlett just snorted.

Gibbs thought it prudent to change the subject. "Are you ladies ready to sail?" He shot a curious look around the dock that was already teeming with activity as the local fishermen made ready their nets and boats. "Which boat did you hire?"

Scarlett frowned. "There is a bit of a problem there."

"None of the locals will sail with a woman," Giselle added. "Say it's bad luck."

Gibbs nodded. "Frightful bad luck."

Scarlett stomped her foot. "Then how are we to get to Port-de-Paix? This is the only day of the week that the market is open." She gave her head an impatient toss. "You seem willing to sail with us. Can't you talk to one of them?"

"Aye, I'll do my best. Bound to be one willin' t' take you ladies on board," Gibbs said, with more conviction than he felt.

A familiar figure caught his eye as he glanced around the dock again, a slight figure in a floppy hat, bent over a pile of nets. "Blessed sweet Westerlies, it's Ana!" Gibbs exclaimed.

Excusing himself from the wenches he wove his way through the throng of fishermen along the dock. Gibbs reached the petite woman and raised a hand to clap her on the back. With sudden reservations, he refrained at the last minute and thrust out his hand instead. "You're a sight for sore eyes, to be sure!" He vigorously shook her hand, beaming a heartfelt smile.

"Mr. Gibbs," AnaMaria replied with a smile. "Weren't expecting to see you in Tortuga!" She shook his hand and sat back on her heels, her demeanor more subdued. "_Mon Dieu! _Is it true what they're saying? About Jack?"

"Depends on which tale yer talking about," Gibbs said with a waggle of brows. "There's many a tale told 'bout Jack Sparrow." He lowered his voice. "And a good deal of truth in them rumors.

"Heard he cheated death."

"Aye."

"Helped destroy the Armada and Beckett."

"Aye."

"Only to get the _Pearl_ stolen -- by Barbossa -- _again_." Ana smiled.

Gibbs gave her a sheepish grin. "Aye, that too."

"Guess nothing's changed much after all." Ana shook her head.

"Aye." Gibbs sighed. "So what brings you to Tortuga, Ana?"

She shrugged. "My auntie lives up in the hills. I help her out when the season's slow. Finally got me a new boat," she added proudly, pointing to a small shallop, customarily used for turtling, that was tied up to the dock.

"A fine vessel it is. You're doin' well for yerself then?" Gibbs asked.

Ana shrugged again. "I make a living. Why?"

Gibbs decided a straight out attack would be the best approach. "I'm lookin' for passage to Port-de-Paix for myself and a couple of lady friends…"

Ana raised a brow and glanced down the pier, where the two wenches waited impatiently, parasols raised to ward off the morning sun.

"Them?" She shook her head. "Whatever do _they_ want to go to Port-de-Paix for? Business been slow around here?" She gave him a speculative look. "They won't be welcome peddling their wares there."

Gibbs rubbed the back of neck. "They're not going there for that." He cleared his throat. "They asked me to accompany them to the market, 'tis all. Miss Scarlett's wanting to pick some tonics and such." He smiled. "Miss Giselle's just lookin' t' get out of Tortuga for a spell."

Ana grunted and went back to her nets, without further comment. After another long moment, Gibbs tried another tactic, one he knew would get her attention. "They'll willin' t' pay for passage."

AnaMaria stood up and squared her shoulders. "I'm doing fine without having to be taking on passengers." She glared at Gibbs. "Especially a couple of doxies that'll probably be heaving all over my clean decks before we ever clear the bay."

"It's a short trip," Gibbs countered. "Ain't no one else t' ask. Won't sail with a woman."

Ana rolled her eyes. "Surprised _you're_ willing!" She thought for a moment then relented. "Fine. I'll take your women there, but I want my fee upfront."

Relieved, Gibbs went back to the women, beaming with the good news. Soon, they were on board the shallop and settled at the bow, as the crew made ready to cast off. As they made their way out of Tortuga harbor, Gibbs breathed deep the salty air. It felt good to be back on the water again!


	2. Chapter 2

Sea Turtles – Chapter 2

--

Note: _Port-de-Paix, one of the major French shipping towns, provided a vital hub for merchants, smugglers, rum runners, and slave traders. A fairly liberal town, its citizens enjoyed a great deal of liberty, as the authorities seemed more concerned with maintaining the appearance of order, and the flow of profits, than controlling the lives of its citizens. _

_Port-de-Paix had been established by French Huguenot settlers, fleeing religious persecution, in the early 1600's. The Huguenots enjoyed an odd kind of protection from the Spanish. In exchange for food, the pirate lords of Tortuga keep the waterway clear of Spanish ships. In return, the pirates were tolerated there, unlike the rest of French Hispaniola. _

--

Port-de-Paix sat jewel-like in the morning sun as the small shallop tacked in close to shore. The port town lay within sight of the island of Tortuga, and the passage across the short stretch of water was smooth and uneventful. Contrary to AnaMaria's worries, both Giselle and Scarlett weathered the crossing without incident, although Giselle did almost fall overboard, while watching the dolphins play in the bow wake.

Ana's crew consisted of her cousins, two brothers – André and Marcel, who made no comment on the unusual passengers, but worked quietly and efficiently, at bringing the boat into port. Gibbs lent a hand as needed, enjoying the feel of a line in his hand and a deck beneath his feet once again. As much as possible, Scarlett and Giselle stayed out of the way, as they watched their approach to the town, in eager anticipation.

After making arrangements for their return passage, Gibbs escorted the two women through the town's narrow streets, past weathered wooden buildings that housed a variety of shops, weaving their way among chickens, and the occasional goat that darted across the road.

They had come for market day, and before they had even tied up at the crowded pier, had been greeted by an onslaught of scents and sounds. A busy, open-air market lined the wharves, the outer harbor, with its fish and meat markets, while further up, the streets were lined with local merchants presenting colorful displays of fresh fruits, vegetables, breads, pastries, spices and local delicacies. Vendors hawked their goods in a frenetic manner, a sharp counterpoint to the town's normal leisurely pace.

"Have you ever seen so many kinds of fruit?" Giselle asked in awe, as she stopped at one stall where colorful assortments of exotic fruits were displayed. Grapefruit, guavas, papayas, breadfruit, mangoes, and other fruit and vegetables, were piled high, the local woman selling them eager to offer samples of each.

Scarlett was distracted by a neighboring booth, where the fabled spices of the West Indies were for sale: vanilla, nutmeg, chocolate, honey and more. Another had lemons as big as oranges, ochre, squash-like tania and christophene, pumpkins and yams, and once again, plenty of nutmeg and ginger roots.

The three of them made their way through the crowded street, stopping to sample wares, and watch the expert weavers as they plied strips of wild palm into hats, baskets, bags and rugs. The market place was a conglomerate of races and nationalities, making up a delightfully diverse mixture of accents and dress.

Towards the end of the street, there was another stall, displaying a variety of homemade tonics, balms, and exotic concoctions, reputed to cure everything from a cough to the pox. The local woman, who ran the stall, had a reputation throughout the area as being an extraordinary healer; her home-brewed remedies touted far and wide.

It was for one such remedy, that Scarlett had made the trip. She set immediately to haggling with the woman over price, a well respected custom of the islands. Only the newly arrived settlers ever bought anything at cost; the longer one stayed in the islands, the better they learned to barter. Giselle, after listening to the back-and-forth banter between Scarlett and the medicine woman for several minutes, became bored and wandered off to look at a display of charms and fetishes, further down the narrow alley.

Spread out on rickety tables was a grisly display of animal parts and other objects – crocodile heads, monkey skulls, dead parrots and bats, skins of snakes, alligator bones, feathers, cowry shells, stones, dolls, statues, and peculiar plants.

Giselle looked at the macabre collection, with both fascination and fear. There were bottles filled with strange liquids, carved wooden bowls, small cloth bags, charms, colored beads, and mysterious, headless dolls.

A wizened old woman, her ebony face as wrinkled as a raisin, smiled a toothless grin at Giselle, her voice reedy. "_Bonjou!__ Prémyé fwa u vinn Port-de-Paix?_

"Come again?" Giselle gave the old woman a puzzled look.

The woman nodded and held up a small charm. "Dis one, eh? _Li pa chè ditou_.

Another old woman sidled up next to Giselle. Her hair tied in a colorful scarf, she waved a gnarled hand towards the fetish seller. "She done want t' sell yuh de charm, dis t' bring deh mon of yuh heart, non?

Giselle puzzled for a moment then brightened. "A love charm?"

Both women nodded. "_Se yon piyay_," said the one.

"A bargain," her crony promptly translated. They seemed to be working as a team.

"_Ki non zanmi ou an_?"

"She want t' know him name. Dis lover of yuh."

Giselle looked back and forth at the two. Laughing, she told them, "Don't have just one feller."

The second woman pressed on. "Der must be one, non? De special one, dat yuh love de most?"

Giselle had picked up one of the bois bois dolls and was toying with it. She bit her lip, then threw back her head and declared, "Jack Sparrow. If I had t' name one." She smiled, knowing the silliness of the matter. But she was on holiday, and the heady exotic locale was making her feel reckless and free.

The two women put their head together in hurried consultation. The first then picked up the doll Giselle had been holding, as the second one nodded.

"Dis will make him love yuh best, non?" The toothless one began adorning the little doll with bits of rags and bead. Within minutes, she had assembled an amazing likeness of Jack, down to the red headscarf, and trinkets in the hair and beard.

"How did you…?" Giselle held the doll in awe, turning it around to examine it. "This looks just like Jack! How did you know?"

The women didn't answer, just smiled toothless grins. "Yuh like? Din yuh must pay."

Giselle reached into her little purse and pulled out a handful of coins. "How much?"

The doll maker plucked two gold coins from Giselle's palm and secreted them into the folds of her brightly colored skirt. "De payment is fair," the other one declared solemnly.

"Giselle!" Gibbs called to her as he hurried down the alleyway. "What are you doin' down here? You know it's not safe t' be wandering around by yerself."

The old women frowned and hurriedly began packing up their wares. Another figure, watching from a darkened doorway, pressed himself further back into the shadows.

Gibbs' eyes grew wide as he saw the items displayed on the tables. "I best be getting' you away from here. Frightful bad luck, all that." He took Giselle by the arm and began pulling her down the lane.

Giselle smiled at the two women. "Thank you!" she said, waving.

Gibbs frowned and, once they were out of earshot, turned a concerned face to Giselle. "You didn't buy anything from them, did you?"

Giselle started to show him the little doll, but instead just shrugged. "Not interested in old bones and feathers." She wrapped her arm in his. "Why? They seemed harmless enough."

Gibbs shook his head. "No, no, no. Them weren't just old bones they were sellin'. Them things were for black magic makings, mark my words."

Shivering, Giselle fingered the small, doll-like figure in her pocket, wondering if it could it be more than a love charm.

They emerged from the shadowy side street, into the bright light of the Caribbean sun, joining the others, who were waiting for them. Surrounded by the colorful stalls and laughing people, it seemed rather silly to be talking about hexes and black magic. Giselle decided to keep the little doll a secret, and secretly hoped, perhaps, it might bring Jack back into port one day.

Little did she know how soon that day would be.


	3. Chapter 3

Sea Turtles – Chapter 3

--

Giselle did not mention the bois bois doll to Scarlett or Gibbs as they made their way back through the crowed Port-de-Paix market, and down to the waterfront. Gibbs had pre-arranged an early afternoon meeting with AnaMaria, in order to assure sufficient daylight for their return passage to Tortuga. _No need to be worrying them none_, Giselle rationalized. Besides, it would take more explaining than she was ready to give, as to why she wanted a love charm that resembled Jack Sparrow, in the first place. _Silly, really_. A woman in her profession didn't have time for such frivolities as love. The ones she'd known to have fallen for one of their customers had found themselves regretting it, in the end. No, that wasn't going to happen to her. The doll was just a novelty, a trinket, a souvenir of her adventures. _Silly, really._

A day that had begun sunny and clear now bore a bank of dark clouds sitting low over the water, the sun fitfully appearing and disappearing in the ragged sky. Small whitecaps had formed on the bay as the wind picked up. As it gusted through the marketplace, the brightly colored canvas, shading the booths, began to flap and snap.

Scarlett struggled to keep one hand on her hat, while holding her basket filled with bottles of tonics and balms. A sudden gust caught her arm, spilling the basket and its contents onto the street.

"Oh!" Scarlett hurried to retrieve her purchases, amid the shuffling feet of the crowd, the rolling bottles startling and scattering chickens that were in their path.

Giselle stooped to help, following one wayward bottle like a bloodhound, weaving her way through the maze of legs and skirts, intent on her quarry. She finally caught up with it as it skittered to a stop against the toe of a very familiar boot, one she knew well, having helped remove it on numerous occasions. Be-ringed fingers reached down and plucked the bottle from the ground just ahead of Giselle getting her hand around it.

"Lose something?" That gravelly, rough velvet voice could only belong to one man. Looking upward, Giselle found an amused smirk and kohl rimmed eyes awaiting her reaction.

"Jack!" Giselle stood and flung her arms around him, ignoring the startled looks of the passersby.

"Easy on the goods, darlin'," he growled, wincing slightly at her hug.

Giselle furrowed her brow in worry. "Something the matter, Jack? You hurt or something?"

Jack patted her arm and smiled. "'T'ain't nothing. Just a bit of an ache here and there." He squinted one eye at her. "You're a sight for sore eyes, t' be sure. But, what brings the fair and winsome Giselle to this town?"

"Came with Scarlett and Mister Gibbs." Giselle giggled and tucked her arm in his. "We've been shopping!"

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Gibbs? Shopping?"

Just then, Gibbs and Scarlett caught sight of them.

"Jack!" Gibbs hurried to give Jack an enthusiastic handshake. "Saints above, Jack! Yer a sight for sore eyes!"

Jack winced again, hissing slightly as he extracted his hand from Gibbs' grasp. "Was just tellin' Giselle here that exact same thing." He turned and smiled. "Scarlett!"

Scarlett took one look at him and promptly slapped him across the face.

"You!" she screeched. "How dare you 'Scarlett' me!" She glared at him, hands on hips. "You lied to me! You told me you loved me, just so you could get me to…" She was working up to another good slap, when Gibbs held up a warning hand.

Still bent over, Jack had not recovered from the blow, eyes screwed shut and gasping for breath.

"Jack?" Giselle leaned down to try to see his face that was hidden by his mane of hair. "Jack, are you all right?" She brushed aside his dreads and found his face clammy to the touch. "I think he's sick or something!" She looked up at the others in alarm.

A chilling wind blew up the street as the sun disappeared behind the clouds. The three of them looked on in horror, as if on cue, Jack crumbled in a heap at their feet.

--

The threatening skies opened and the rain poured upon the town, shutting down the market and delaying the departure of Gibbs and the others. Having revived Jack long enough to move him out of the rain, they now sat, wet and bedraggled, huddled together at a local tavern's corner table.

Jack was propped against Giselle's shoulder, his eyes closed, pale and feverish. "What do we do now?" she asked, looking around at the unlikely group of stranded travelers.

"Not much we can do," Ana said, swallowing some rum from the bottle they shared. "Seas are too rough to leave port." She frowned as she glanced at Jack. "And he's in no shape to be traveling."

Gibbs nodded, concern etching his face, as well. "Wonder how he came t' be here in the first place?" he mused. He too a drink and passed the bottle to Ana's cousin André "Didn't see the _Pearl _out in the harbor."

"Don't right matter why he's here," Ana said. "What matters is he's sick and needs a doctor."

"But where do we find a doctor around here?" Giselle asked, worried.

Scarlett, obviously upset, hadn't said a word all evening, instead sat huddled alone in the opposite corner, twisting her handkerchief and dabbing her eyes. She now ventured a word. "Perhaps that healer I bought the tonics from could help."

"Aye, worth a try." Gibbs agreed. "But where'd we find her, now that the market's closed?"

Ana spoke up. "She's got a place near here, in the hills." At their inquiring faces she added, "Her name's Mamie; her and my auntie go way back. My cousins know where she lives."

The two brothers nodded. "Tante Mamie. We can take you. Best we go, before dark, though."

"You never mentioned you knew her!" Scarlett narrowed her eyes at Ana, who returned the look.

"Don't remember you asking me none, either," Ana warned. "Don't remember you asking for anything, but a way here and back."

"You were paid for that," Scarlett pointed out.

Ana gave her a cold smile. "Exactly. You only get what you pay for."

"Well, here I thought we were doing you a favor. I certainly won't do that again." Scarlett sat back in a huff.

Ana sat back as well and crossed her arms. "Good." She gave everyone at the table a defiant glare. "Don't think Jack needs any more favors either."

"Why I never!" Scarlett flushed in indignation.

"Now, now ladies," Gibbs hastily intervened, only to get glared at by both parties. "We all need t' be worryin' about Jack, not squabbling over trifles."

"Now Letty, be reasonable," Giselle begged. "No need to get all upset, we know you didn't mean it."

Scarlett whirled on her friend. "I did mean it, every word!" she shrilled. Then she burst into tears and ran out the front door.

Gibbs, a slight shade of red, mumbled something about dangers, and hurried after her.

Ana just rolled her eyes at the ceiling and sighed. "Your friend is rather touchy," she said finally to Giselle.

"Letty? She's just upset," Giselle explained. She shifted slightly allowing Jack more room, brushing a lock of hair from his face. "You see, the last time we saw Jack, well it were just after he'd returned from the big battle, and we'd thought him dead, and all, and well…" She blushed and glanced at the feverish pirate slouched heavily on her bosom.

Ana waved a hand in annoyance. "Well, what?"

Giselle glanced between the two brothers and Ana "Well, you see," she began, lowering her voice. "We were all so happy to see Jack and well," she paused, and stared for a moment at the table, suddenly uncomfortable admitting it to the others. Finally, finding her resolve, she held her head high. "We decided to let Jack have that threesome he'd been wanting for so long."

Ana snorted and rolled her eyes again.

Giselle ducked her head, fiddling with the doll in her pocket, and remembering the night in question. _It weren't like we'd done anything wrong, allowing that we'd done just about everything else with Jack before. Weren't that what we were supposed t' be doin'? Weren't like Jack promised us anything, well exceptin' that ride on the Pearl. And that weren't his fault either, how was he t' know that awful Barbossa would sail off with his ship? Well, maybe Jack did tell Scarlett he loved her, but that was just to reassure her she weren't doin' anything wrong. Her being all old-fashioned about them things. Not that it seemed wrong at the time; I mean how wrong can it be to be…_

Giselle's thoughts were interrupted by a loud groan from Jack. She felt his head and looked up, her concern deepening. "He's burning up!"

"We must get him to Mamie's before sundown." Ana stood and took charge, nodding towards Jack. "André, you and Marcel will need to help get Jack on his feet. Perhaps we can find a wagon to borrow."

The two brothers did not waste any more time. Working together as a team they hoisted up Jack, slung his arms over their shoulders, and half-carried, half-walked him outside. The rain had by then tapered off to a drizzle and the sun was low on the horizon. A rainbow arced across the sky above the green hills, and it was in that direction that the group headed.

"What about Scarlett and Gibbs?" Giselle asked, looking around for them. "Shouldn't we wait?

Ana whirled around. "For what? So that she can watch Jack die like a dog in the street?" She pointed a finger at Giselle and hissed, "I should be leaving both of you behind."

Cramming her hat on her head, Ana turned and, without another word strode away down the muddy street. With one more look around, Giselle followed the others as they headed out of town, grasping her little doll in her hand, and hoping they weren't too late.


	4. Chapter 4

Sea Turtles – Chapter 4

--

AnaMaria led the way down the road, her destination the healer's house in the hills. Her cousins followed, carting the unconscious Jack Sparrow. Giselle, tenacious as ever, brought up the rear. Realizing they could not carry Jack the entire way, and unable to locate a wagon, Ana's cousins had scrounged the next best thing: a wheelbarrow. The wheel squeaked mournfully as they pushed Jack along.

Giselle was torn between waiting for Gibbs and Scarlett or going with the others. Figuring that Gibbs would take care of her friend, Giselle opted to go with Ana and her cousins, hoping they could find help for Jack. Burning with a fever, he had not regained consciousness, and lay sprawled in the makeshift cart, one beringed hand hanging over the side. Despite her worries, Giselle, had to smile as she noted that Jack had acquired yet _another_ new ring, this one a gold signet.

The wide road narrowed to a rutted path as they reached the outskirts of the town. They trudged down the muddy road without conversation, only the squeaking of the barrow wheel breaking the silence. The sun was riding low in the sky, by the time they reached the small, hill settlement, a collection of wattle and mud-smeared houses, with deep porches and palm-thatched roofs.

After a hurried consultation between brothers, they turned down a small path that wound its way past an assortment of cottages, with chickens busily pecking in the yards, and small vegetable gardens planted behind. Mongrel dogs wandered lazily along the road and goats grazed the green hillside.

Surrounded by a crude split-log fence, the last house in the lane was set back from the road, amid trees festooned with an odd assortment of trinkets and shiny objects. On closer examination, they turned out to be bits of broken bottles, feathers, crude pottery and shells, bleached bones and a shriveled chicken foot or two.

The house itself was larger than any of the others they had passed. It was a wooden structure built on either side of a wide breezeway, with tall windows that offered additional ventilation.. Set on posts and raised several feet off the ground, the house had a high-pitched thatched roof and a deep veranda encircling it, providing welcome shade.

As they entered the gate, a woman came out to stand on the front steps. Her teeth flashed white against her ebony face, her hair done up in a red scarf, her dress a swirl of color.

"What can I do you for?"

"Tante Mamie!" André stepped forward in the fading light.

"André!" The woman came down the steps and threw her arms around him. "How be you?"

"I am fine, Tante. But my friend here, is not so fine." He gestured to Jack, where he lay in the wheelbarrow.

"He is sick?" She went over and gave Jack a closer look. She gasped. "Jack Sparrow!"

"You know him?" Ana stepped closer.

Mamie nodded. "Me know him." She frowned as she felt Jack's head. "Him no good. Plez, kom ina mai haus. Kom, bring him."

A younger woman appeared on the steps, a young child clinging to her side, eyes wide with wonder. "Mama, who is it?"

"André et Marcel, Thérèse garsons. You know dem?"

"Of course." She came down into the yard and gave them each a hug. Turning to Ana she said, "I am Jolee. You are Ana. I believe we met, once?"

Ana nodded. "When we were young, oui." She turned a concerned face toward her cousins carrying Jack up the steps. "Do you think your mother can help him?"

Jolee nodded. "For Jack Sparrow? For him, she would do most anything, if at all possible. Come, we will see what we can do."

They turned and went into the house, leaving Giselle standing in the yard, forgotten, unwanted, and alone.

--

"Mister Gibbs! Are you sure this is the right way?" Scarlett paused to mop her face with her handkerchief. They had been walking for what seemed like forever, following a rutted path in the fading light of day.

Gibbs was peering down at the path, squinting into the gloom. "Aye, they came this way. See the tracks here," he said pointing. "And here. Looks to me, they've got them a cart of some sort." He wiped his face and neck with his neck scarf. "Most likely to carry Jack."

Scarlett snorted. "_Most likely,_ we've been following some local going home from market." She was tired: tired of walking, tired of being hot, then wet, then hungry, and now thirsty… tired of this whole adventure.

"No! No! No! This is the right path." Gibbs straightened and glanced at the sky. "We best be going, if we're t' find 'em before dark."

They turned off the main road, onto an even narrower path, past a row of cottages, their candlelit windows providing a feeble light to illuminate their way. By the time they arrived at the house at the end of the lane, the stars had begun to appear. The track they were following ended there, as well, an empty wheelbarrow setting in the dooryard.

Scarlett shivered as a wind suddenly blew cool across her face, the oddments hanging from the trees clinking softly, as the last vestiges of daylight faded behind the hills. The house sat crouched in the darkness, the windows glowing like eyes in the night.

"Now what?" Scarlett asked, peevish and disappointed.

Gibbs rested his hand on the butt of his gun, nervous and alert. "Figure, this must be the place. We'll just go in and ask…"

"Ask what?" Scarlett demanded, exasperated. "'Excuse me, but did you happen to see my friends? You can't miss them; they have a notorious, and unconscious, pirate with them.'"

Gibbs nodded sheepishly. "That'd about do it." He opened the gate and peered into the dim. "'Pears t' be someone sittin' there."

Scarlett, following on his heels, squinted as well, just able to make out a figure sitting on the stoop, elbows on knees, chin in hand. It was Giselle, looking rather dejected.

"Giselle!" Scarlett rushed across the yard. "Where's Jack?"

Her friend looked up, her face troubled. "They took him inside."

"Why are you sitting out here?" Gibbs glanced up at the house.

"Wasn't invited." Giselle sighed. "They just went inside, never said a word to me, like I didn't exist."

Frowning, Gibbs stepped to the door and knocked. A few moments later, a young woman opened the door. "I'm here about Jack Sparrow," Gibbs said without preamble.

"He is a friend of yours?" The woman glanced past him, toward Scarlett and Giselle.

Gibbs nodded. "Aye, and the ladies, as well."

"Wait a moment." The woman closed the door.

A small wind stirred the odd ornaments hanging in the trees; they tinkled and jangled, lending an eerie sound to the stillness. Scarlett shivered, a prickly sensation on the back of her neck. A black and white cat wandered around the corner of the porch, paused and stretched lazily, then went over and butted against Giselle's hand with his head. Allowing a scratch or two behind his ear, he casually strolled into the yard, and sat, tail twitching intently as he stared at a patch of grass. In a blur of motion, the cat pounced, and then pranced off into the bushes with his prize, hanging from his mouth. Scarlett shuddered, her mood troubled by the implied premonition.

The wind picked up, swirling leaves through the yard, the items in the trees clanging louder. A low, throaty yowl sounded from the bushes, then another. The black and white cat raced back towards the house, his fur standing on edge. A clap of thunder sounded directly overhead, causing both women to jump in alarm. The rain came without another warning, a sudden downpour that drowned out any other sound.

The three of them retreated further onto the porch to escape the deluge. Then, almost as abruptly as it had begun, the rain ceased. The frogs began to call, in a harmonious calliope of sound, accompanied by the buzzing of the cicadas in the trees above. Fireflies dotted the yard with their intermittent flashes of light.

Scarlett glanced at Giselle, where she sat in a rattan chair, half illuminated by the light spilling from the window. She appeared to be toying with something in her lap.

"What's that?" Scarlett asked, curiously creeping toward her.

Giselle quickly stuffed the object into her purse. "Nothing! Just a trinket I picked up at the market."

"Let me see," Scarlett demanded, holding out her hand.

Giselle paused for a moment, then reached in her purse with an embarrassed smile as she did as she was bade. "It's nothing, Letty. Just a bit of fun."

Scarlett examined the little doll, a remarkable image of Jack Sparrow. Gibbs, who had been staring out into the yard, turned and gasped, his face blanched.

"Where'd you get that? Them dolls are bad luck," he said in a low ominous voice, pointing at the bois bois doll. "I tell you, known to bring harm, to the one they look like."

Giselle's eyes widened with realization. "Do you think…?"

At that moment, the front door opened again and Ana came outside. "You best come see Jack, before it's too late," she said, her voice twisted with emotion.

The three of them followed her into the house, through a large open room with high ceiling and mud-plastered walls, sparsely furnished with a mixture of rattan and wood, the floors covered with woven palm mats. Ana led them down a central breezeway, towards the back of the house, where there were two smaller rooms that served as bedrooms. The moonlight streamed through the lattice-covered window, casting a crisscross pattern of shadows across the room. Jack was there in bed, sweating in pools of water, delirious with a high fever, and writhing in agony.

"What's the matter with him?" Giselle asked, hushed.

A voice from the shadows answered. "Someone done put a gris-gris on him."

Gibbs eyes widened and he hastily crossed himself, turned around counterclockwise twice and spit.

Scarlett, being the most pragmatic of the group, raised an eyebrow and asked coolly, "What exactly is that supposed to mean?"

"Someone has cast a spell against him," Jolee explained. "They've bewitched him, somehow. Mama is doing all she can, but her medicines are not powerful enough to counter this."

Giselle cast a worried look at Jack. "Will he die?"

Mamie came over with a towel and wiped Jack's brow, while muttering to herself. She shook her head and turned to them.

"De Obeah must be called. Dis bad, bad for Jack." She narrowed her eyes and asked, "None of you know who done this? Who done cast de spell?"

Giselle, a stricken look on her face, pulled the little doll from her pocket, and held it up for all to see, swallowing hard. "I think I did," she said, tremulously


	5. Chapter 5

Sea Turtles – Chapter 5

--

Everyone in the room stared in shocked silence as Giselle held up the little "Jack" doll for all to see.

Ana was the first to speak. "Where'd you get that?" she asked, eyes narrowed.

"At the market" Giselle swallowed, her words rushed. "It seemed harmless. I didn't know it would hurt Jack!" She swallowed again, trying hard not to cry.

Mamie came over and took the doll from Giselle, shaking her head and muttering." You done give dem somethin' of Jack's?" she asked, examining the figure carefully.

Giselle shook her head. "No, nothing. They asked his name, that's all. I didn't tell them nothing, I swear." They told me it were a good luck charm, I didn't see no harm!" she pleaded to the roomful of angry people.

"That's what you get for meddling in things you know nothing about," Ana said in an angry voice. "Now look what you've done!"

Giselle gave them all a stricken look and burst into tears. Scarlett hurried to console her, putting a protective around her as she turned to Ana. "You have no right to accuse her of anything," she said, biting back "Can't you see the poor girl is upset? You're a fool, if you think she'd willingly want to harm Jack," she added, as she gave Giselle's shoulder a comforting pat.

Ana crossed her arms and glared at Scarlett. "I'm a fool all right, for ever having agreed to bring you two here in the first place."

The two women glared at one another.

Gibbs hurried to intervene. "Ladies, please!"

Ana whirled and pointed a finger at him. "You watch who you call lady!" With that she crammed her hat on her head and stomped out of the room.

Jack let out a loud groan. Mamie hurried over and wiped his brow then turned, waving her hands, shooing everyone out. "Go, all of youse. Jolee, fetch dem something t' calm dem. All dis bad blood no good for Jack."

"Yes, mama." Jolee went to the door to escort the others out. "Should we send for de Obeah?" she asked, pausing at the door.

Mamie was shaking her head and fussing over Jack. She looked up and said solemnly, "Der is no other way. "Marcel," she said, turning to Ana's cousins." You and André, you go fetch da Obeah man. Youse make sure youse tell him it's fer Jack Sparrow, or him won't come."

The brothers put on their hats and made to leave. Mamie consulted with them a few minutes in private, handing them several items that they secured in their pockets. Then they slipped away into the night.

The rest of the group retreated to the front room, where they sat in uncomfortable silence, punctuated by an occasion sniffle from Giselle. Ana stood at the tall window, staring blankly out into the night, her back pointedly turned to anyone else in the room. Jolee left, to return with a bottle of rum and some mugs. She set them down and disappeared once again, returning with her young child on one hip and a basket of food on the other.

"You must be hungry," Jolee said, setting the basket on a low table. Inside the basket was some bread and fruit, a large chunk of goat's cheese and several bottles of wine. At the bottom of the basket, wrapped in a linen cloth to keep them warm was a plate full of savory meat pies.

Her little boy, whom they learned was called Jochum, wriggled down from her arms and toddled to the cat sitting on the front stoop. Squatting down on his haunches he petted the cat gently, a smile on his face. The placid domestic scene helped quell the foreboding atmosphere, and soon Gibbs and the women were sharing a pleasantly satisfying meal, fortified with rum and wine. Eventually, even Ana joined in, although she was still obstinate enough not to engage either Scarlett or Giselle in conversation.

"What will happen now?" Ana asked Jolee.

Jolee gave them all a long look, apparently trying to decide something. She nodded towards the others. "De Obeah will not be wantin' dem around, dem not one of us." She smiled to take the edge off her words. "De must be kept outta sight. Dey can stay in de kitchen."

"Why I never!" Scarlett huffed. "You and your black magic, and bad spells." She glared accusingly at Ana. "I'm sure Jack is just suffering from one of them swamp fevers."

Ana bristled and jumped to her feet, hands clenched and jaw set. Jolee raised a hand to intervene as she turned to Scarlett. "You doubt, but des is not but da truth," Jolee said gently. "Der is black magic in dese hills, a power beyond even my own mama's medicines. De white man, dey don't understand."

"But why then, would this Obeah want to help Jack?" Giselle asked, curious. "And how does your mother know him?"

Jolee smiled. "Jack, him known my mama a long time. Her one of dem dat him set free." Seeing their puzzled looks, Jolee nodded. "Jack Sparrow, him much respected in dese parts."

"So, who would want t' harm 'im?" Gibbs wondered.

Jolee shook her head. "Not every mon love Jack Sparrow. Him have plenty strong enemies, too. Some mon, him be settin' de deaths on Jack."

"Next, you'll be telling us that Jack's possessed by an evil spirit," Scarlett said dismissively, refusing to accede to any of it.

"Why don't you just shut up?" Ana demanded, bluntly.

Scarlett let out a frustrated yowl and flounced out the door.

Giselle bit her lip, torn between loyalty to her friend and wanting to know more of what was ailing Jack. "Will Jack die?" she asked of Jolee.

"It depends," was her solemn answer. "Der be two ways to bewitch a man: witching somethin' out of de man, or witching somethin' into de man. If him duppy been taken, den da Obeah, him done have te try and get him shadow back. Dis is not always dat simple."

Giselle frowned, confused. "Duppy? What's that?"

"Dey say dat every mon, him have him two duppies, a good one and a bad one. When de mon sleeps, de good duppy stays der and watch over him, while de other goes walking. Nor can de sleeper wake 'til dat bad duppy, him returned."

"Then, these "duppies" they are a man's soul?" Gibbs looked equally confused.

Mamie came into the room at that moment. "Dey are him dream-soul," she explained. "And der are dose dat capture de dream-souls of others. Dis is why it is important dat you keep de soul with you at all times. Dis is der business, de bokor. Him don't care none whose dream-soul him catch in de trap. If de payment is fair, den him return de soul to its owner."

The wind whistled through the trees outside, jangling the fetishes and causing the candles to gutter and hiss. The shadows danced on the walls as Mamie continued, her voice low and ominous.

"But der are other bokors, either wicked on der own account, or dey are hired by people, who are moved by some hatred of de mon, and den de trap is set careful like and de bait, for de soul of de mon dey wish to harm. Dis is de worse kind, for dey take him soul and tear it up, so dat it causes de owner sickness on its return te him."

She gave Giselle a pointed look, her voice kind. "Even de name of a person, if dat fall into bad hands, may be used te harm him." She smiled. "Youse did not knows des, do not blame yerself. Da ways of de bokor, dey not well known among yer kind."

She held out her hand. "Kom. You must not be here when de Obeah kom." Mamie took Giselle's hand and gave it an encouraging squeeze. "Der, der, child. Yer Jack, him will be back 'fore youse know it."

Ana snorted from her corner of the room.

"Coo, youse go on, girl! " Mamie scolded, turning on her." Yet youse no more in Jack's heart din dis one. Him love dem all, yet leave dem all, dis I know."

Scarlett returned from the porch just in time to overhear this last statement. She smiled sweetly at Ana, who shot a withering look back.

"Jolee, take dem to de kitchen, dey can stay der for de night."

Gibbs and the women followed Jolee down the breezeway towards the back of the house. They passed the room where Jack lay, silent and still as if dead. Exchanging worried looks, they went out the back door and across the yard.

The kitchen was a wooden building behind the main house, connected by a covered walkway. The main room consisted of a large stone hearth and wooden worktable. Bottles containing various herbs and spices lined the shelves, and great bunches of dried plants and roots hung from the rafters. Leading off the main area was a second room, apparently used to house guests, and held several cots and chairs.

"Whatever you hear, do NOT leave dis place," Jolee warned. "NO matter what. Dis is most important."

The three of them agreed and after setting out several more bottles of libations, she left. They sat in worried silence, each lost in their own thoughts, the lantern light casting long shadows on the wall.

--

Ana followed Mamie back to the room where Jack lay. No longer able to move, he was semi-conscious, his eyes glazed. Frustrated, worried to distraction, Ana paced the room, both cursing the impudent Scarlett and, ironically, thanking her. Regardless of what Ana might have said, had she not agreed to ferry the women to Port-de-Paix, she would never have known of Jack's plight. He could, at that very moment, be lying dead or dying, in some back alley.

As much as Ana wanted to deny it, she had a strong emotional attachment to Jack. Not love, there was no way she would ever love someone as scatterbrained as Jack. No, not love. So, why did she feel this irrational sense of envy of the two Tortuga whores? What could they possibly mean to Jack, beyond a cheap lay? Yet, whenever in port, Jack had always sought out the two of them, exclusively at times, despite the abundance of other strumpets.

Ana stopped pacing long enough to watch Mamie as she gently ran a cool rag across Jack's face, crooning softly under her breath. It seemed no matter where Jack went women (and even men) gravitated to him, as if he were a human lodestone. It was his nature, and no one, not even Ana could change that.

With a frustrated groan, Ana stomped out of the room in search of rum, encountering André and Marcel as they entered the front door.

Jolee went to fetch her mother, while the cousins took off their hats and coats, and flopped wearily into chairs. Ana took a swallow of rum, and then passed them the bottle.

"Did you find this obeah man?" she asked, also skeptical of the entire matter -- not that she'd ever admit that to anyone.

Marcel nodded and gestured towards the door. "He's out there, in the yard. Says he won't enter the house, 'cause Jack's a white man."

Mamie hurried into the room, having overheard his announcement. "Him don't never come outta dat cave in de hills, not for no mon. Him come here for Jack Sparrow. Dat be enough."

The windows cast faint light upon the yard below. With the evening mist swirling around him, Amalkir, the Obeah practitioner presented an ill-omened sight: Old and shriveled, with wild hair and grizzled beard, his bright, cunning eyes peered out from beneath a dirty handkerchief bound tightly round his forehead. The Obeah man approached the veranda, with a stooping gait, assisted by a large walking stick on which the rude likeness of a human head was carved round the handle. He had a large bag slung across his shoulder, and carried a crude wooden cage containing a white fowl.

Everyone gathered on the porch to watch Amalkir perform his work. Squatting down, he began to remove an assortment of objects and herbs from his bag. First, he set out the special offering of his patron: the white fowl, two bottles of white rum, and a silver offering, on the ground beside him. Next to those, he placed an empty bottle.

After arranging his objects, the obeah man spread sand and ashes in a circle, into which he cast bones, all the while, swaying and chanting in an unknown tongue. Occasionally, he would stop and remove additional items from his bag, and drop them into the bottle, pouring a little rum over them. The throat of the fowl he deftly slit, the drops of blood being allowed to fall first on the silver offering, and then on the contents of the bottle, into which he added a few feathers plucked from various parts of the fowl, along with a last libation of rum.

For some time after this he sat, with legs crossed, and chanted, while smoking a pungent weed, whose smoke wafted throughout the house. After several other rituals and chants, the obeah man gathered up his belongings back into his bag, and departed into the night, having been adequately paid for his services.

"Now what do we do," Ana asked, gazing out into the night, the sky intermittently lit by distance lightening.

"We wait." Mamie turned and went into the house, the others following behind.

Ana chose to remain on the porch. Curling up in a rocker, she gazed out in the darkness, her thoughts troubled. She had thought she'd gotten past all this, yet here it was again: that cold feeling of fear, twisting her gut, not knowing if Jack would live or die. She'd walked away from Jack years ago, knowing he'd never change, that he'd keep taking chances, taking risks. She found she could not live with the fear of losing him, so she had chosen to be the one to leave. Many said Jack Sparrow was a charmed man. He'd cheated death before, aye. But how many times would it take, before even Jack's luck ran out?

--

The storm broke around midnight, with heavy winds and driving rain. As the new day dawned, Jack Sparrow finally opened his eyes, his fever gone. Having never left his side, Mamie was there to help Jack, still racked with pain, hobble out onto the veranda. He leaned heavily on her, barely able to remain upright, as she stood him before the obeah's circle, which lingered just as the shaman had left it, in spite of the previous night's storm. A slight breeze blew across the veranda floor, twisting itself into a small vortex, encircling Jack's bare feet and legs with the ash and sand of the circle. As the breeze twisted upward along his body, the pain lessened and lessened, until finally, it disappeared altogether, along with the wind.


	6. Chapter 6

Sea Turtles – Chapter 6

--

The day dawned bright and hopeful, the air cleared substantially, by both the night's rain and Jack's remarkable recovery.

Jack lay in bed, propped comfortably against a pile of pillows. Sunlight streamed through the lattice covering the open window, as the sound of birds and buzzing insects wafted in on the balmy breeze. Still weak from his bout with the fever, and a bit hazy on details, he rested, eyes closed, in a moment of peaceful bliss. Jack reached out to pat the hand of the lovely Giselle, feeling like a sultan on his throne, surrounded by a bevy of doting females. _Well, mostly females, that is. This one seems a bit hairy…_ Jack open one eye to find Gibbs, a beaming smile on his face, sitting in Giselle's place.

"Mornin' Cap'n," Gibbs said cheerfully and gave Jack's hand a friendly pat back. "Good t' have you back with us."

Jack snatched his hand away, giving a vague wave. "Not exactly sure how I got here, actually." He glanced around, determining if they were alone. "Could have sworn, there were a couple of lovely wenches here. Must t' been dreaming." He closed his eyes again; the dream had been most pleasant.

"No, no, Cap'n," Gibbs said. "They were here, all right; just stepped out to freshen up a bit." He lowered his voice. "You know how the women go on about cleanin' and such."

Jack gave a crooked grin back. "Aye, that I do." He raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps you could enlighten me, on how these same wenches, who I swear have never sashayed a step outside Tortuga, managed to find their way here?"

"You don't remember?" Gibbs asked, baffled. "We met you in the market."

"Last thing I recall, was meeting a gent at the tavern, suppose t' know something about the whereabouts of that perfidious rotter Barbossa and the _Pearl_." Jack leaned back on the pillows and closed his eyes, trying to remember.

--

_Following a trail, now three weeks old, Jack had come to Port-de-Paix, after overhearing a conversation on the docks of Petit-Goâve the previous week. The reason he had gone there was based on information picked up at a whorehouse in La Vega. So far, all leads had proven to be dead ends. He was hoping his luck would change, this time._

_That particular evening had started as most others had, with the tavern filled with drunken revelers, the rum and ale flowing freely while the scantily clad whores plied their wares among the boisterous crowd. Jack had sat to one side, with a clear view of the door, nursing his tankard of rum as his eyes darted around the room. He saw the man he was waiting for stagger into the tavern, a buxom wench on his arm. His eye catching Jack's, the drunken informer whispered something to his evening's companion, and staggered his way to the table where Jack was sitting._

_Jack hadn't been sure which was seedier: the back -alley tavern, or the drunken blighter sitting across from him. _

"_Evenin' gov'nor," the man slurred, sprawling in the chair opposite. "How's business?" Laughing at his own joke, the drunk signaled to the barmaid to bring some rum. "Gonna be me a rich man, after I tell you me news," he said in a confident voice._

"_Really?" Jack had replied, biding his time. From the looks of it, he knew it would not take much for the poor sot to spill what he knew. _

_The other man leered at the serving maid as she set down the tankards, her bared cleavage inches from his nose. The would-be informer eagerly guzzled his drink. Wiping his mouth on a grimy sleeve, the sailor belched loudly. "Aye. And this time, it'll cost ye," he said with a nasty grin._

--

Worried that Jack was still too weak to travel, Gibbs decided to delay their departure to Tortuga a few more days. At first, both Scarlett and AnaMaria had been adamantly opposed to the idea. In fact, Ana was perfectly willing to sail without any of them, weather permitting. Her mind made up, she went to see Jack, to say her good-byes.

"Not wantin' t' sail with ol' Jack again, aye?" Jack's eyes twinkled, though his voice was weak.

Ana frowned. "Don't be daft. It's nothing to do with you."

She walked to the window and peered through the lattice into the yard. Scarlett and Mamie were in the garden, talking animatedly with each other, pointing at one plant, and then another. Seeing the ease with which Mamie had accepted the strumpet made Ana scowl further.

Ana didn't like these new self-discoveries she'd recently made. Her vehement distain for the two women had surprised her, almost as much as her long-dormant feelings for Jack. Ana couldn't remember a time, when she'd thought one way or another, about the many whores that plied their trade in Tortuga and other port towns. She had simply accepted it as a way of life, a life she thankfully had never been forced to resort to. And, in all her years of sailing with Jack, he'd never hidden the fact that he enjoyed his dalliances with the strumpets. Even during the brief time they were intimate, Jack had always found an excuse to go ashore and sample their wares.

So, why was she suddenly acting like a jealous schoolgirl? Ana turned from the window, groaning with frustration. The sooner she left that place, the easier it would be to forget. She glanced at Jack, who lay with his eyes closed, appearing to be asleep. Perhaps she should just slip away, quietly, before he woke.

"Goin' t' skulk away, are you?" Jack's teasing voice stopped her as she reached the door.

Without looking, Ana spoke over her shoulder. "Don't see any reason to stay, not catching any fish sitting around here."

She heard him chuckle. Turning, with a retort on her lips, she stopped short, as he suddenly was serious.

"Would you know if you caught one?" He had a strange intensity about him. "The right one?"

Ana shrugged. "Rather daft question, if you ask me."

Jack settled back on the pillows, his face etched and strained. He spoke so low, Ana almost didn't catch what he said next.

"I thought I did, once. Slipped through my fingers, though, couldn't hold on." He sighed and closed his eyes again. "Opportunity of a lifetime, gone, slipped away, just like that." He waved a vague hand.

Ana rolled her eyes. "The one that got away is always the one you want, is that it?" She turned and opened the door. "Well, you know the saying, Jack Sparrow, 'There's plenty more fish in the sea.'"

As she closed the door she heard him whisper, "No, not any more."

--

A little while later, Giselle came bounding in, like an over exuberant spaniel. Jack opened one eye, and smiled as he watched her pause to fix her hair at the mirror, before coming to sit next to the bed. She set a basket on a small table and began to remove items, humming a cheerful tune under her breath. When finished, she swept over to the window, where she peeked out into the yard beyond.

"Hiding from someone?" Jack teased.

Giselle jumped and spun, hand to her breast. "Goodness gracious, Jack! Blimey! You scared me!" She came back to the edge of the bed with a smile and sat down. "Didn't mean t' wake you. I was told t' bring you something t' eat." She gestured at the table where a simple meal had been set out.

Jack flashed a glint -of -gold smile her way. "Why so happy?"

Giselle smiled back, pouring them each a tumbler of ale. "What's not to be happy about? After that horrid day I had the other day!" She sat back down on the bed and blurted out, "There I was, worried sick you were gonna die, and then comin' here, and everyone bein' so mean to us, and that awful scary obeah man comin', and then _she_ got all mean, and nasty, and started blamin' me for everything…"

"Whoa, hold up there." Jack held up a hand. "Who was all 'mean and nasty'? Mamie?" He frowned. "That don't sound like her t'all."

Giselle shook her head, her face red. "No, not…never mind. Don't matter none, now, does it? You being all better and soon we'll be able to go back to Tortuga…" Giselle's hopeful face fell. "Not sure I _want_ to go back, now."

Jack chuckled and patted her hand. "Can't much stay here. Where would you go?"

"I dunno, anywhere." Giselle sighed, propping her elbows on her knees and cradling her cup in her hands. "Somewhere fun, exciting." She shrugged, resuming her usual, practical self. "Don't much matter, I guess, now that yer better and all. Who knows! Maybe, that nice Captain Thomas will show up again. We haven't seen him in over a month."

Jack suddenly was wide-awake. "Thomas? Did he mention where he'd been?"

Giselle giggled. "I didn't talk t' him. You'll have t' ask Letty. She's his exclusive, ya know, when he's in town."

Jack sat up. "When did you say you saw him last?" he questioned her in rapid succession. "Was he alone? How long was he in port? Did he say where he was heading?"

"I imagine he went where any of you gents go, when you leave: off looking for adventure." Giselle shrugged. "Does it matter?"

"Aye, it matters, most explicitly and enormously." Jack patted her hand and smiled. "Be a dear, and do me a favor. See if you can find where Scarlett's gone to and tell her ol' Jack wants to see her."

Giselle gave a frustrated moan and flounced to the door. "Why is it all the men always wants Scarlett?" she complained.

--

Giselle found Scarlett at the back of the cottage with Mamie, who was giving her a tour of her garden, explaining the many medicinal uses of the wide variety of exotic plants growing there. Once she realized that Scarlett was genuinely interested, Mamie had turned out to be an excellent teacher. The first thing she did, however, was make the distinction clear, between her healing powers and that of the Obeah.

"Now der's _doctoring_, and den der's _conjuring_," Mamie explained. "Der's a difference, and it ain't everybody knows de difference. Coo, youse knows dat if a man gets snake bit, dat youse take da black chicken, cut it in half with de feathers still on, and put it in de bite te draw de poison out. Dat is doctoring."

"Why black?" Giselle asked, curiously following behind the two women.

Scarlett nodded. "I don't see how the color of the chicken would make a difference."

Mamie shook a finger at them. "Now, dat ain't conjuring no more den what some white folks does. Mr. Owens, him has his man tie da green cow manure poultice over da bite." She folded her arms and defiantly raised her chin. "So youse ask me how comes dat chicken has te be black, and I be asking youse how comes dat cow manure poultice has te be green. I be tellin' youse all, that ain't conjuring."

They were leaving the gardens as Jolee came around the corner of the house with Gibbs, the two of them chatting amiably. Little Jochum was giggling, and running after the chickens in the yard, delighting in every squawk and flutter.

"Boy! Why youse fe galang so? Lef dem Nuh!" Mamie hurried after the toddler, shaking her head. "Galang bout yuh business!"

She made a shooing movement with her hands, which only excited the chickens more. Mamie turned to her daughter, hands on her hips. "Yuh ina big choble. Coo pon dat bwoy!"

Jolee reached down and grabbed Jochum, swinging him onto her hip. "Now, mama! Dem chickens no worse off den in de pot!"

Scarlett and Giselle shared a laugh with Gibbs, the dark mysteries of the night swept away in a cloud of feathers.

"Oh! I forgot, Letty." Giselle said, suddenly remembering her mission. "Jack wants to see you."

--

Scarlett paused at the door to Jack's room, wondering what her reception would be. Their last meeting had been acrimonious, to say the least. She tapped lightly on the door and pushed it open, the sun-drenched room was welcoming and…empty.

Frowning, she turned to go, taking a moment to let her eyes adjust to the gloom of the breezeway. She didn't see Jack until he touched her arm. Startled, she let out a yelp.

"Jack! Are you sure you're well enough to be up and about?" Scarlett asked, noting his flushed face and glittering eyes.

Waving a dismissive hand, Jack tucked her arm under his and led her towards the yard. "You and me need to have us a little talk."

Flustered, Scarlett dug in her heels, bringing both of them to a halt. "Look, Jack. I know you're mad and I apologize, all right? I was angry, that's all. And had a right to be, after what you said, and what you…er, we…well, all of us did," she stammered, blushing. "But I never wished any harm on you, no matter what that AnaMaria says. As for that woman, well she just has an unpleasant disposition." Scarlett took a deep breath. "I promise not to mention it again."

Jack raised a quizzical brow. "Why would I be mad? If you ask me, it was a most enjoyable and entertaining, not to mention, highly educational, evening." He cocked his head, teasing. "You been listening to that scallywag, Thomas, again? Man's positively jealous, I tell you."

Scarlett stood staring at him, mouth agape.

Jack prattled on, oblivious. "Now, if you were t' ask me, I'd say that man's just been t' sea too long. There's much t' love about the sea, but when a man's gets to needin' a certain something, 'tis wise to make port and get t' scratchin' that itch." He waggled his brows. "Course, not that all men are needin' t' be scratched, in the same way. Some prefer t' take their pleasures where they find 'em. Don't much matter where they scratch, s'long as it's willin and able."

Jack peeked at Scarlett as if to gauge her reaction. Realizing what he was inferring caused her mouth to drop further.

"Take Thomas for example." The mischievous glint in Jack's eyes belayed his serious countenance. "Fine, upstanding gent. Incredibly brave, noble…why, he could have his pick of anyone willing…"

Scarlett interrupted with a frown, hands on her hips. "Get to the point, Jack."

Jack paused in mid-sentence, and gave his fingers a flutter her way. "Giselle was tellin' me that Thomas had been in Tortuga recently, and me, I was just wondering…"

"Wondering what? Did I see him? What we _did_?" Scarlett flushed, angry with Jack all over again. "Don't see where it's any of _your_ business, Jack Sparrow. It's not like you'd been coming around lately."

"That's not fair!" Jack said, finger raised, in protested. "I was dead."

Scarlett flounced past him. "That's what they _all_ say."

--

"So it didn't cause Jack to be sick, after all?" Giselle looked in wonder at the bois bois doll that Mamie handed back to her.

Mamie shook her head and smiled. "Dat's what de obeah man said. Him said dat dis helped save Jack from him death. Dat dis were a good gris gris."

"Sort of like a good luck charm!" Gibbs said, deciphering.

Giselle beamed. She hadn't caused all Jack's pain and suffering after all. But what had? Puzzled, she turned to ask Mamie, just as Scarlett stormed out the door, her face twisted in fury.

"Mister Gibbs!" Scarlett stomped to where they were sitting. "I demand you take me back to Tortuga immediately!"

Gibbs opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by Jack, hot on her heels. "Aye, Mister Gibbs. I suggest we leave in due haste."

"Jack!" Gibbs eyes widened in surprise. "Should you be out of bed, what with your condition…"

Waving an impatient hand, Jack interrupted. "I'm fine, mate. Beside, I'd say we've imposed on the hospitality of the lovely Mamie long enough." Swiveling, he swept a bow towards Mamie. "I cannot thank you enough, love," he murmured, raising her hand to his lips. Then, to the surprise of them all, he swept her up and gave her a resounding kiss on the lips.

Mamie giggled like a schoolgirl. "No mos!" She laughed. "No bada gwaan bad. Duon gwaan bad, yaa?"

Jack laughed along with her; giving Jolee a hug and a chaste kiss on the cheek. "You take care of your mama," he admonished. He tousled little Jochum's hair and said cheerfully, "Gibbs! What say we see about finding passage back to Tortuga?"

"Aye, aye, Cap'n," Gibbs responded enthusiastically, then his face fell. "Not exactly sure how, though."

Scarlett was apparently still roiled at Jack. "He's right, Jack. Who will take us?" she asked, peevishly." Your _friend_ didn't bother to wait for you."

Mamie waved her hand. "Der won't be no choble finding de way. De lucky gris gris will help youse." She smiled "Dese are yours, Jack Sparrow," she added quickly, as if suddenly remembering. "I never seen no mon dat love de charms as youse." She handed Jack his rings, which she'd been keeping for him.

Jack gave her a golden grin as he slipped them on. Frowning slightly he held out his hand, wagging each finger, taking inventory.

Mamie caught the gesture. "Deh Obeah, he done took de shiny one," she explained. "I say de payment was fair."

They all agreed and expressed their gratitude to Mamie for her help and hospitality. Scarlett made arrangements to return some day, and learn more about the many tonics and balms Mamie was famous for. Giselle was invited as well, providing she stayed away from the fetish market.

Giselle smiled and promised. She never wanted to go _there_, again. Glancing down at her little doll, she reflected on the past days as they headed down the path towards town. She'd hoped to find adventure, and see Jack Sparrow once again. Seems she'd managed to do both.


	7. Epilogue

Sea Turtles – Epilogue

--

The evening had started as most did, with the usual crowd of sailors and merchants, drinking and carousing throughout the dockside taverns and streets of Tortuga. Giselle had been busier than usual, and had not noticed when Jack Sparrow had showed up at the _Faithful Bride_, along with his friend Thomas and quartermaster, Gibbs. It wasn't until she'd taken a break to quench her own thirst, that she'd seen the three of them, heads together at a table in the back alcove of the tavern, a secluded area where business of a more private nature could be conducted.

Weaving her way through the throng, Giselle made her way to where the trio was sitting, whispering amongst themselves. As she approached, Jack's voice carried over the noise of the tavern, as he thumped the table with his fist.

"I'm going after her, with or without you." Jack's voice was choked with emotion. "I know what it's like to have to live without her, and I'm not doin' it again, mate."

Thomas's response was too low to make out the words, but his face was also full of raw emotion. He patted Jack on the shoulder, in a definitive gesture "We'll sail on the morning tide," he said, loudly enough to be heard. "Can't say I blame you, Jack. I'll do whatever I can to help you find her."

The three then raised their tankards in a toast.

"Take what you can."

"Give nothin' back."

Captain Thomas pushed back his chair and stood. "Now that we've settled that, I believe I know a certain redhead that has promised to keep me company for the evening." Thomas smiled at the sight of Giselle and gave her a big hug. "You're as pretty as ever," he teased.

Giselle stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "Scarlett is waiting by the door," she whispered.

"Keep an eye on my friend over there for me." Thomas winked. "Don't need him running afoul of any more evil spells."

--

"What'll you do now, Jack?" Giselle glanced at the pirate, who was lying on the narrow bed in his shirt and breeks, apparently content to spend the evening in quiet companionship.

Jack sighed and stared up at the ceiling. "Go after her, find her and make her mine, once and for all."

"I'll miss you," Giselle said in a small voice, walking over to the window and looking out at her world.

"Time and tide, luv," Jack said. He rose and came up behind her, and stood watching the night.

Giselle shrugged off her melancholy mood and turned to Jack with a smile. "You know, Jack. You never _did_ tell me how you came to know that medicine lady, Mamie." She glanced at the little bois bois doll, a souvenir of her little adventure, setting on the shelf. "I was told that you and her go way back."

Jack moved to the table and sat, pouring them each a glass of rum. Smiling, he patted his knee. "Come sit, ol' Jack wants to tell you a tale."

"A long time ago, back when I was first Captain of the _Pearl_, I came across a ship sailing for the islands out of Africa. She was riding low in the water, a merchant vessel, obviously laden with goods that any honest pirate would see fit to relieve her of. We gave chase, me and me crew, and boarded her without much fight. But, instead of the usual bounty, we found in the hold a cargo of people. Crammed to the gills, she were, a slaver."

He paused to take a drink, obviously disgusted with the idea.

"'People ain't cargo,' I told the Captain. He didn't hold to a scallywag such as me, telling him what to do. So, me gents and me decided to part the Captain from his cargo, and set him, and some of his men, adrift in one of the boats. Oh, we didn't leave them with naught to survive on, they were given water and victuals, and a compass. The men that chose to stay with the vessel, helped to loosen the shackles on the unfortunates below. We sailed in tandem to the nearest port and let those people go free."

He paused, lost in thought. "Every man and woman deserves to be free, luv," he said finally.

Giselle waited for him to continue, not wanting to interrupt. After a few more minutes, Jack resumed his tale.

"In that cargo was a young woman, not much older than me. She was grateful for her freedom and offered me her home should I ever visit that island. Not long after that, the _Pearl_ got beat up pretty bad in a storm, that blew up sudden like. Lost the fore t'gallant, wind tore it clean off, before we could take the sail in. And the mizzenmast was snapped in two. Lucky for us, we were close by that same island. We limped in and anchored nearby. Couldn't have made it elsewhere."

He was lost in thought, his mind in the past. "I ended up staying for four months, repairs taking longer than expected. About the third week in port, I was in town buying supplies when I happened upon the young lady. Well, being a long ways from Tortuga and being…well, being a man, luv, I like a pretty girl. Turned out, she had herself a small farm outside of town. I went to visit and well…ended up staying a bit longer."

He stood Giselle up, to move to the window, and gazed out at the sea in the distance. "Wouldn't see her again for twelve years or so. Once the _Pearl_ was back afloat, I'd left for the sea again, not knowing…"

"Knowing what, Jack?" Giselle followed him to the window, the moon was visible as it rose over the sea.

"The young woman's name was Mamie."

She looked up at him in surprise. "And Jolee…?" she asked softly.

Jack nodded. "She don't know; thinks me an uncle of sorts."

"That means that little Jochum is…"

Jack flashed his golden grin on her and said in a proud voice, "Right smart lad he is, too. Figure he'll make me a good cabin boy, once he's old enough."

"'Once he's old enough.'" Giselle laughed. "Do you plan on sailing the seas, forever?" From the look on Jack's face, she knew she'd said the wrong thing.

"'Course. Thought you knew that, 'less they catch me first." He turned and put both hands on her shoulders, growing unusually serious. "The sea's all I know; love it almost as much as the _Pearl_. She takes me wherever the wind blows. Wind's still free, and the _Pearl_'s my freedom. Asking me to give them up t'would be the death of me."

Giselle reached up and kissed him gently. "Whoever said anything like that? I know who your true love is, always have. Surprised you've stayed ashore this long."

Jack smiled and relaxed then, pulling her into an embrace. "She's a fair mistress, the _Pearl_. And don't mind a bit o' sharin', as long as she's allowed to run free."

"Wasn't talking about the _Pearl_, silly." She ran her hands down his back. "Stay here tonight," she said softly. "For old times sake. And then…" She ran her hands a bit lower causing Jack to groan.

"And then…what?" he asked her, voice rough velvet to her ears.

Giselle giggled and pulled him towards the bed. "And then…you go get her back!"

No further conversation was necessary.


End file.
